


Something Serene

by roadsoftrial



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadsoftrial/pseuds/roadsoftrial
Summary: "There are days where the world that sits on Cor's shoulders causes his knees to give out, days where he needs Nyx to take over, to care for him when he doesn’t think he can anymore."





	Something Serene

There are days where Cor falls silent. Where his eyes wander as Nyx tries to talk to him until they get hooked to a spot on the wall. He clenches his jaw, his fists, so tense Nyx fears he will burst if he touches him. Cor is hostile on his best days, but pulling him out of his haze by force is water on a grease fire.

There are days where the weights of Cor’s responsibilities, his memories, all the pain he’s endured without so much as flinching take their toll. There are days where the world that sits on his shoulders causes his knees to give out, days where he needs Nyx to take over, to care for him when he doesn’t think he can anymore. He trusts Nyx to do this, trusts him with his life. He’s the only one he trusts.

There are things they’ve been able to talk about, settle on, in between those days. There are things Cor’s agreed to leave in Nyx’s hands, when his own can’t be trusted.

There are days where Nyx takes control, and on those days, when they have enough time on their hands, when Nyx is allowed to pace himself, reach out and slowly, slowly drag Cor back to the surface, he’ll go to the bedroom, to the bottom drawer of Cor’s dresser, and pull out a bundle of dark ropes, sturdy, supple from repeated use. He’ll take the rope and go back to Cor, crouch in front of him, a warm hand resting against Cor’s thigh as he tries to catch his eyes, though it doesn’t always work, and calmly run the hand holding the bundle of rope across Cor’s neck, the length of his arms, until he reaches his hands, lets him take hold of it, makes sure he understands what Nyx is about to do.

There are days where Cor refuses, and Nyx always bows out when he does.

There are days where Cor accepts. Days where his fist tighten around the rope, where he lets go of everything, lets Nyx pull him from his seat, take his hand and carry him wherever he wants. There are days where he accepts, where he follows Nyx without question, where he surrenders to Nyx’s touch, lets him coax him into doing what he will.

Today, he’s accepted.

They go from the dining room where Cor has been sitting by himself for the past hour, to the bedroom, Nyx’s hand steadfast around Cor’s wrist. He stops in front of the bed, lets Cor stand as he sits facing him. He runs warm hands along the length of Cor’s body, opening his own legs to pull him closer. He lifts Cor’s shirt, just enough to reveal a sharp pelvic bone and a thin trail of dark hairs. He leans forward, his fingers resting in the curve of Cor’s back, thumbs tracing light circles at his hips, and presses his lips on the exposed skin, warm and heavy and lingering. He makes his way further down, lips never leaving the shivering skin, and slowly move his fingers to undo the button of Cor’s jeans, to unzip the fly so he can keep moving. He pulls down the pants as his mouth finds the band of Cor’s dark underwear, and doesn’t take those off, not yet, choosing to bury his nose, his breaths, into Cor’s slowly hardening cock. He gently tugs at the hem of Cor’s jeans as he does, pulling them all the way to his knees, slipping a hand around his waist to secure as Cor lifts a leg, then the other to let Nyx take them off entirely.

Cor sighs when he pulls away, unsteady and growing ever so needy. Nyx feels a tinge of that possessive pride, the one that sprouted the first time they kissed, at the thought that he did this, that he has the power to make Cor be like this, defenseless and yielding, just for him.

When Nyx finally lets go, he gets up, steps around Cor and nudges him gently in the small of his back, to encourage him to get on the bed. He complies, slowly, and Nyx helps him set onto the mattress, near the side, on spread knees. He lets him settle down onto the comforter, stands in front of him so their eyes can meet. Cor struggles to hold his gaze, but his breathing is even enough that Nyx isn’t worried.

He always lingers, at this step, unable to take his eyes from Cor’s shape, scarred, sturdy and stubborn, so unwilling to break but straining against the bend. He looks at Cor in all of his sharp angles and cracked pieces, all of his roughness and all of his exhaustion. No one ever gets to see Cor like this, no one has been allowed until now. This sight belongs to Nyx alone, and he cherishes the thought that Cor trusts him enough to allow him to take him apart.

He loves him, so much, all the time, but especially then.

He snaps out of it, after a while, and leans towards Cor, cups his face with steady hands, holds it up to meet his eyes, to make sure he’s still with him. When Cor doesn’t flinch, he bends over towards him, kisses his temples with soft lips, lingering, taking his time, because they have no shortage of it. Cor’s breaths are deep going in, shuddering as they exit his throat, but Nyx keeps going, slowly dragging his lips across a sharp cheekbone, the corner of Cor’s lips, finally settling in for a deep, languid kiss that Cor falls into like he needs it to breathe.

Nyx breaks the kiss first, a bit reluctantly, because he’s not here to be selfish, not here to think about what _he_ wants, not today. He leans back, because he needs to, but refuses to let go of Cor’s face.

‘Cor?’ he whispers, their faces close and the tiniest bit flushed, ‘let’s take off your shirt, ok?’

Cor nods but doesn’t move, because he isn’t in charge anymore, because he’s asked to be taken care of, in every single way. So Nyx steps forward, wraps scarred arms against tense shoulders, runs his hands down Cor’s back, keeps going despite the initial start, despite the shudder. He reaches for the hem of the shirt and pulls delicately until the fabric is crumpled above Cor’s chest. Nyx stops, then, to drag a feather-light hand across Cor’s muscles, exploring all of that pale skin he loves so much, all of the nooks and crannies as he dives into the ebb and flow of his breathing. He then hooks his fingers at the back of Cor’s collar, and pulls to take off the shirt, asking him to lift his arms in a whisper so he can get rid of it entirely, dismissing it to the side of the room.

He moves back once more, hands on Cor’s shoulders, to catch his gaze again, make sure Cor’s still there. When Cor looks back at him and doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch, Nyx smiles, slowly lifts his hands to enclose his cheekbones between them, presses his lips on each eyelid before letting go to grab the rope he’s thrown on the bed.

Nyx calls him by his first name, on days like this. On normal days, when Cor takes charge, Nyx sometimes calls him _Marshal_ and leans back, enjoying the way it sends Cor into a frenzy. On days like this, though, the title is grating at best, distressing at worst, so he lets go of it so that Cor can, too, just for a day.

‘Cor,’ he says, voice soft and soothing, ‘are you ready?’

At that point, Nyx steps out and waits for a response, every time, because he knows things can go south if he doesn’t. He smiles fondly when Cor finally looks his way and nods, slowly but without hesitation.

‘Good,’ Nyx says with a smile. He unfolds the rope, then, and kneels on the bed, his clothed body flush against Cor’s half-naked one. He steps forward, straddling him, leaning on his lap, slipping his arms over Cor’s, hands meeting behind his sturdy back. He folds the rope in two, makes the first knot with practiced ease and pulls the first two loops out of it.

He grabs both of Cor’s wrists with his free hand, then, and pulls both arms behind his back with a commanding gentleness he’s come to master. He slips each of Cor’s hands into the loops, slowly pulling the rope across his arms, making sure he feels every inch of it as it travels up the limbs, revelling in the goosebumps he creates as he goes, in the quiet hitch of his breath, in the stiffness he feels against his hip. He slips his arms back around Cor’s chest to give the rope a tug once Cor’s shoulders are harnessed, hooking his chin to Cor’s shoulders as he makes a new knot, new loops, slides them over his arms ever so slowly, pulls them into place just hard enough, to make the moment last, so that Cor understands that he’s safe and sound and cared for. He ends up with ten knots that each pull Cor’s arms closer and closer to each other across his back, with both wrists bound together as the rope runs out, his back arched from the tension, his chest jutted out, chin up and eyes half-mast, looking down Nyx’s back with heavy breaths. Nyx smiles at him as he lets go and gets off the bed, and he hears the faintest groan of protest when the contact is lost after all this time.

‘Are you feeling ok?’ Nyx asks as he runs his hands through Cor’s hair, waits, leans down for one more kiss after Cor finally nods, a kiss he intends slow and soft, but that Cor turns hungry, needy, pushing all of his body against Nyx’s as he leans into it. Nyx catches him, wrapping his arms around Cor’s waist, and it isn’t lost on him, how Cor could easily fall off the bed by doing so, but trusts Nyx not to let him.

He feels Cor, now rock hard against his waist, feels the discreet roll of his hips, desperate for any sort of pressure. Nyx pushes him back lightly, so he can move and bury his face against Cor’s throat, drags a methodical hand across the length of Cor’s body, slowly slipping his fingers under the band of his dark underwear, wrapping a gentle hand around Cor’s cock before giving it a few tugs that reverberate throughout Cor’s body with a sharp shiver and a shuddering breath.

Nyx keeps going, then, their bodies flush, hand light and steady as he scatters feather-light kisses all across the tightened skin of Cor’s throat and collar bone, his free hand clawing at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, and it’s a sight to behold, how eager Cor becomes, how fast the flush spreads over his cheeks and ears, how his jaws start to relax, his fists to unclench, how his breathing hastens, short and brisk under Nyx’s touch.

When Cor starts to rumble, somewhere between a moan and a grunt, Nyx lets go of his neck, his other hand still loose and stroking his cock, and reaches for the beside table, for the small tube of lubricant they keep there. He feels Cor’s head dip against his shoulder, warm and heavy, feels his boiling breath, growing less and less steady by the minute, and he revels in the thought that Cor is slowly, slowly coming back to him, that the way he responds to Nyx’s touch is a sure-fire sign that what Nyx is trying to do for him is working, somehow. He smiles at him, though Cor can’t see it, presses soft kisses against Cor’s cheek before letting go of his cock.

Cor moans ever so slightly when he does, and Nyx shouldn’t find it so endearing, but he still does. He sets a hand on Cor’s shoulder, tilting up his chin with the other, and he’s not happy that he has to pull Cor out of his calm bliss, but he wouldn’t feel right not to.

‘Cor, are you ready?’ he asks, voice low and raspy. Cor opens his eyes slightly, slowly, gazes at Nyx with a look that’s somewhere close to begging and nods against Nyx’s fingers with a sharp breath.

‘Good. Good. Spread you legs a bit more,’ he whispers, and Cor complies, sinking onto the bed, knees wide open, his contained erection aching, bulging towards Nyx.

Nyx gets down on his knees, then, and tugs at Cor’s underwear just so, to give his hand access to Cor’s painfully hard cock. He pulls it out, gently, and tucks the band right under his balls, because he’s selfish and likes the way that sharp pressure makes him moan. He bends over, then, closing the gap between them. He doesn’t take his cock in, not yet, rubs his stubble across the length as strong hands dig into Cor’s thick thighs. He hears Cor’s shuddering breath, the soft grunts as Nyx’s chapped lips graze his cock, the sharp inhale as he finally opens his mouth and presses the flat of his tongue against the tip of Cor’s circumcised cock, as he laps at the leaking head once, twice, before finally taking all of it in.

It’s a thing of beauty, every time, the sounds Nyx can get out of Cor, when he puts his mind to it. Cor, who’s always so quiet, so reserved, Cor, who only speaks in grunts and groans, even on days where Nyx fucks him senseless into the mattress. It’s a thing of beauty, how pliant Cor becomes, how Nyx’s mouth can make him sing, how he’ll moan and curse when Nyx takes him all the way down his throat, warm and tight as he tries to tip him over the edge.

Nyx feels him tremble against his hands, sees the tight rise and fall of Cor’s chest when he looks up with half-lidded eyes, hears the moans that escape his throat when he bottoms out, nose buried in Cor’s trimmed dark hairs, artfully walking the line between just right and too much. He feels him shudder, feels how close he’s getting, straining against the restraint, coming to life inside Nyx’s mouth.

Nyx goes for the kill, then. He moves his fingers from Cor’s now clawed out thighs, all the way to the sharp curve of his ass, dipping his fingers under the tight elastic band surrounding the soft gap of skin right in between, gives his cheeks a sharp squeeze that reverberate in Cor’s throat and in the thrust he sends down Nyx’s. Nyx drags his fingers deeper into the flesh, teasing around Cor’s tight hole, grazing, shadowing without quite diving in, working Cor up in a mess of erratic breaths, whines and moans that even Nyx’s cock hears loud and clear. He takes Cor all the way down his throat again, to stall him, distract him while he quickly grabs the tube of lubricant, squeezing a small bead onto his fingers, slicking them up before digging back under the briefs. He doesn’t waste time, then, sliding his lubed up middle and ring fingers into the tight ring of muscle, thrusting in and out at a leisurely pace, looking for that one spot that will make him burst.

Cor is beautiful, right then and there, writhing against his restraints, panting, grunting, huffing bits and pieces of curse words under his breath, surrendering to the rhythm of Nyx’s tongue and throat burning hot again his cock, of Nyx’s fingers, slicking in and out of him, hitting that one blissfully overwhelming spot every time, rolling his hips, sinking into Nyx like he’s all that exists in the universe.

That’s how he climaxes, calling Nyx’s name, as Nyx swallows him, all of him down his throat, as he pushes his fingers as deep as he can, clawing at Cor’s ass with his free hand, pulling him towards his body, the pressure, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

He falls onto his side as soon as Nyx lets go of him, shoulders pulled back, the red friction marks from the binds noticed for the first time since they started, his breathing uneven, eyes half-mast still, but light, fluttering, a testament that Nyx has done things right.

Nyx’s cock is straining inside his jeans, the sounds Cor made, the taste of his cum spiralling into his head. He doesn’t give in to it, on those days, not until long after Cor has gone to sleep. Because Cor owes him nothing, on those days, because Nyx grants him the freedom to care about nothing, to be as greedy, as loved and cared for as he deserves to be.

It’s another long, quiet moment, while Nyx pulls Cor back up, unties him, Cor saddled over his thighs, leaning against his chest and surrounded by Nyx’s strong arms, his breathing nice and slow against Nyx’s neck while he focuses on carefully untying each knot. Nothing else exists in the world, right there and then, just the soft brush of the rope against Cor’s skin, the feeling of Nyx’s fingers against the red, slightly swollen marks, Nyx’s voice, hoarse and playful, purring words of praise in his ear.

It’s another long, quiet moment as Nyx tucks him into bed, runs his fingers through Cor’s hair and kisses his temple; another suspended moment as Cor reaches out, hand gripping at Nyx’s shirt as he tries to get up, urging him to stay. It’s an infinite moment as Nyx sits back against the bedpost, as Cor whispers a ‘Thank you’ that would be missed by any other ears, as he falls asleep, arm wrapped against Nyx’s thigs, snuggled so close next to him, Nyx’s fingers a gentle scrape against the nape of his neck.

Nyx loves him, so much, right then and there, more than he ever thought possible.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I... this... yeah.   
> This has been a tough one, y'all. But I wrote it. And now I rest.
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Comments and kudos are wildly appreciated!! ♥  
> Come cry with me on [tumblr](http://roadsoftrial.tumblr.com/) and [ffxv tumblr](https://thelegendarynoctgar.tumblr.com/)!!


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